


『 noon 』 Two assholes attempt to decorate a Christmas tree. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

by ikmkr



Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: #kamukomawinterweek2019, Ficlet, M/M, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), kamukomawinterweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: that’s not a tree decorationprompt two: decoration
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574095
Kudos: 38





	『 noon 』 Two assholes attempt to decorate a Christmas tree. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

**Author's Note:**

> for kamukoma winter week
> 
> writing Healthy Komaeda is hard but i refuse to make him Drool Over Hope in a post-despair scenario implied to be several years after the tragedy please let him display healthy behavior when he is healthy

“We should have done this two weeks ago,” Komeada grunted as he helped Izuru carry in the box that held their artificial tree.

”I know, but I wanted to decorate the tree with you.”

They were, two and a half weeks into December, finally decorating their tree. The garland and lights Izuru had done during the wee hours of the night; Nagito would wake up in the morning and be met with surprise Christmas everywhere he looked, and although that rattled him sometimes, he knew Izuru consistently kept himself busy and only ever did get time to do these sorts of things late at night. (Apparently eating was one of those things, if the clink of pots and pans at midnight said anything.) However, the tree he had saved for Nagito. 

“I’m flattered, really,” Nagito enthused, “but aren’t you going to micromanage this, claiming that you have a ‘vision’ like last year?”

Izuru fixed him with a blank stare, then mimed a pout. “I am wounded. No.”

”Really.”

”...let me pick out the garland.”

The two men set the box on the floor with a dull thud. Dust flew into the air, and Nagito coughed as he accidentally inhaled some of it. It was a simple, nondescript cardboard box; the only hint to its contents was **_christmas tree._** scrawled on the side lopsidedly in Izuru’s almost illegible handwriting. Nagito was thoroughly confused by Izuru’s handwriting. It looked like a doctor’s signature. Well, he supposed, you learn by example.

Izuru dusted off the top of the box, and carefully pried it open, the inscrutable _**christmas tree.**_ disappearing from view as the real tree was revealed. It was artificial, the branches frosted with white lights, fake snow and fake pinecones, its three parts lying in the box innocently. Izuru nudged each part with his hand as he rotated them slightly within the confines of the box; he was checking for seasonal wear and tear, and moments like these were why Nagito really loved him. His gentle observation and attention to detail brought a soft smile to his lips.

”Anything broken?” Nagito asked, leaning over his shoulder to watch.

The other man deliberated for a second. “No,” Izuru returned, after a pause. “The tree is functional.”

”Oh, that’s good. I liked that tree.”

Together, they worked to remove the tree parts, and carefully raised the fragile branches into position. As Nagito grabbed the third fraction of the tree to prepare it, Izuru set up the base, then hooked on the second part, connecting the lights together by their outlet. Nagito handed him the third, and Izuru got onto his tip-toes to reach the top. 

Nagito watched him struggle and muffled a laugh with his hand. “Do you need a stool?” he offered.

”...maybe,” Izuru responded.

Nagito ran off laughing for the stool; Izuru pouted and laid on the couch facedown. Nagito came back, saw him supine on the couch, and laughed even harder.

”I regret my existence,” Izuru noted, voice muffled by the couch cushions. “I was born small and emotionally stunted.”

“I would love to console you,” Nagito reassured him, “but you wanted to pick out the garland. You may have a temper tantrum about your height on me later, Kamukura-kun.”

Izuru sat bolt upright. “Ah yes,” he said faintly, “the garland.”

Nagito watched with amusement as his lover sorted through the box of tree decorations, quickly moving his head as a haphazard roll of ribbon flew past him.

Izuru’s hair bounced as he shot his arm up in triumph, grasping a spool of red and gold ribbon. “I’ve found it,” he stated. He immediately launched himself at the tree, and Nagito sighed as Izuru attacked the tree with ribbon, not unlike the way a cat would bat at an ornament. In a very short time, Izuru was done, gesturing at his work expectantly.

”Lovely,” Nagito reassured him. “Perfect work, per usual.” 

Izuru bowed. 

“Ornaments,” Nagito offered, grabbing the trays of very fragile baubles from the coffee table.

”Yes,” Izuru returned. “Those are glass.”

”I have been warned.”

They were circular baubles, red, green and gold. Nagito noted how the glass reminded him of Izuru’s eyes. Nestled in the branches, they gave the tree an unexpected pop of color, contrasting the dark green and earth tones of the tree in a very traditionally christmas way. As the light of the tree shone around him, Nagito sighed.

”We’re not done yet,” Izuru reminded him. “Bring me the poinsettias.”

Nagito obliged, and brought him the poinsettias. “You remind me of an evil mastermind like this,” he commented, placing the plants in Izuru’s arms.

Izuru stiffened, holding the poinsettias. He turned his head ever so slightly, red eyes fixed on his lover. “Do I now?” he queried.

Nagito backpedaled. “Shit, I mean— I hope I didn’t upset you, a disgusting person like me shouldn’t be making comments like that to the Ultimate Ho—“

A warm hand on his shoulder cut him off. “It was an accident,” Izuru reassured him. “It is fine. I am not mad. Help me with the flowers, please.”

”Yes, of course.” Nagito scrambled to work, pulling the blooms from the bouquet they were nestled in and threading them in between the branches. Behind him, Izuru took three quiet, deep breaths and joined him.

The tree looked like a fantasy at this point. Nagito thought so, too, smiling warmly as his eyes skated over the tree, flecks of golden treelight reflected in his eyes. “It looks so beautiful, Izuru. We did good.”

”We need the star yet at the top of the tree.” And with that, Izuru scooped up Nagito in his arms, climbed up the stool and haphazardly set him in the topmost branches.

Nagito shrieked; the tree couldn’t support his weight, and he fell right off. An ornament fell off the tree and shattered; Nagito landed safely on the couch. 

Izuru let out a single mirthful shout. Nagito reached up from the couch and pulled him down, and Izuru toppled onto him.

”I’m flattered, but I hate you,” Nagito wheezed, grunting as Izuru’s elbow dug into his chest. He whacked Izuru over the head with one of the couch pillows in a retaliatory gesture.

Izuru turned around in his grip undeterred, trying to find the perfect spot to cuddle into. “Merry Christmas. You are the star.”

Nagito sighed, and cupped his cheek. “ _You_ are the star here. So brilliant.”

”Oh,” Izuru responded dumbly. His nose went pink. He hid his blushy face in Nagito’s sweater, quietly embarrassed. “Oh gosh.”

”Such a shining beacon of hope—“

Red eyes met grey. “Ok, I am stopping you there.”

”You would!”

Another thrown pillow, and the playfight was back on. The shattered ornament lay on the ground, forgotten. 


End file.
